22. 107 U2 Songs

Sunday, 13 January 2019

Perito Moreno, Argentina

Same girl who checked me in, checks me out. Tells me that I’d better get used to the wind in Patagonia. She’s referring to me asking for another room as the silver birch branches were thrashing the roof and making a racket the first night. Tell her it’s not the wind noise that’s the problem. It’s the branches rubbing on roof. No, she says, it won’t be the branches. It’ll be the birds. Must be bloody big birds. No. It’s the branches. I know it’s the branches because I saw it happen. No, she says. Erm. Yes.

Long drive scheduled for 670km but actually do 705km to Perito Moreno, though only takes 8hrs. It’s all about fuel management today. Mr & Mrs Stuttgart warned of service stations with no fuel. Internet is awash with stories of service stations with no fuel along route 40. And if there is fuel, 2hr queues. Set off at 0830hrs. It’s a Sunday, so very quiet in El Calafate. I’d been told the local nightclub opens at 0100hrs and closes at 0600hrs. There was a time when I could do that. And then go to work for 0830hrs the same day. But I was young then. I now have to get up for a pee in the middle of the night at the time I used to get in. Middle age for you.

Pass sixteen vehicles in the first hour. That’s quite busy! First fuel stop is Tres Lagos, 160km north of El Calafate. Nearly drive past the service station. Only just realise as the car a few hundred metres in front brakes after the junction and does a three point turn. It’s set back from the road about 200m hidden by a few trees. Dinky little place and just two pumps but a lifeline. Drive past the police checkpoint and give him a cheery wave. He reciprocates. Loving Argentina. About 30km north of Tres Lagos, the tarmac stops. Now have 75km of gravel dirt road. Only just discovered this yesterday and thankful that I had. The first few hundred metres are a washboard. Oh. My. God. My. Teeth. Are. Chattering. Really bad road surface. This is going to take ages. Fortunately, it improves slightly and there’s a mix of deep gravel (where the rear end fish tails), light gravel, dried mud, washboard and large boulders to contend with. Notwithstanding, generally running at 60-80km/hr. Some places you can do 100km/hr, some places it’s 20km/hr. Despite that, make good progress and manage to drive the 75km length of gravel dirt road in 75mins, so 60km/hr on average. If I see a vehicle stopped, I stop and ask if everything is OK. Want them to remember the friendly gringo offering to help just in case I break down.

Bizarre how and why such a major road can be such exceptional quality for thousands of kilometres but they leave 75km in that state. Makes no sense. Shortly after returning to the tarmac road, the map is showing turn left to continue on route 40 but the main run of road continues on route 29 to Gobernador Gregores which is a detour off route 40. Turn on to route 40 and see why everyone is continuing on. It turns into a gravel dirt road again. Hmmm. Done enough offroading for one day. Return to route 29. Mr & Mrs Stuttgart had said that they fuelled up at Gobernador Gregores a few weeks ago and now I understand why. It’s the way to go.

Parched, brown flat landscape is like driving over the moors in the Derbyshire Peak District. As you approach Gobernador Gregores from the plateau you see this lush green oasis in the River Chico flood plain below you. Just like being in the desert. Beautiful green poplar trees line the streets and find the service station. 200km to Gobernador Gregores from Tres Lagos. Fill up.

Having bought food yesterday on the assumption that I would struggle to find food today, tuck into dried bread, jam and cheese flavoured Doritos. It’s a giddy existence. Slight logistical problem. Getting jam out of jar onto bread. Triangular Doritos do the trick. Classy. I know how to live.

Follow the road up to the plateau with the lush green flood plain below. Such a contrast between the brown and the green. Apart from the odd ‘Zona de Baches’ the roads are fast, sweeping and open. Great day’s drive. It’s 360km to Perito Moreno and have sufficient fuel to get me there but wary that there may be no fuel. Aim for Bajo Caracoles, 226km from Gobernador Gregores. A small rest stop. One fuel pump. Hmmm. Walk into café. A local sits at the coffee bar, dressed in black. Ask about fuel. He points to his cap on his shoulder and his gun in his holster. Ah. Police. He explains that there’s no fuel and that it’s 127km to Perito Moreno. I have three quarters of a tank full so should be OK. Unlike the poor motorcyclist who needs fuel but can’t go any further as they have none here. He’ll have to wait for a delivery.

Landscape changes colour about 40km from Perito Moreno to reds, golds and yellows. This is mining territory.

Perito Moreno like Gobernador Gregores. Lush green oasis in the desert. Find the YPF fuel station and fill up. 705km today. When I first looked at stopping here when doing some initial planning the main hotel that cropped up was the Belgrano. Fortunately, I’ve found a better one. Hotel Cuevas de las Manos. Named after the cave of hands nearby. This is where prehistoric man blew red dye over his hands on a rock face to leave handprints, though don’t have time to visit.

Have played my collection of U2 songs today. 107 songs to drive from El Calafate to Perito Moreno. It’s a beautiful day and many a time have seen no line on the horizon due to the mirages.

It’s Sunday evening. It’s 1930hrs. I’ve only had a jam sandwich all day and a bag of crisps. Somewhat hungry. Cheeky girls on reception suggest a few restaurants but they don’t open until 2000hrs. Not a problem. By the time I’ve wandered and stretched my legs it’ll be time. Americano Hotel restaurant is closed. Austral hotel restaurant has a group of tourists. Ask them if food is being served. They say they hope so. They’re waiting for the chef. It may be 2030hrs by the time he turns up. Try a café. They only have a toasted ham and cheese sandwich. Fellow tourist speaks English so translates for me. They recommend Chef Uno three blocks up and one block on the right. Wander off. It’s now 2020hrs. I’m in need of a beer and food now. Chef Uno is shut with no signs of life that it may be opening imminently.

Executive decision. Buy a beer from supermarket. Go back to hotel room. Have a jam sandwich with one of the left over bits of dried bread. Eat the other pack of cheesy Doritos. Eat some chocolate biscuits.

So. That’s it. Dinner. It’s a giddy existence.

That’s life.

Esther.